


Refugees

by Belle_Evans



Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Fast and the Furious (2001)
Genre: M/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Evans/pseuds/Belle_Evans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In Fast Five Vince had a son. I aged him up and relocated him and his mother.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Refugees

**Author's Note:**

> In Fast Five Vince had a son. I aged him up and relocated him and his mother.

The tension and dislike didn't really have much flavor on Brian O'Conner's side. It was a means to an end. It helped ease him into the starring role in the vanilla rebellion Mia Toretto was looking to effect. Brian Spilner had been both different from the car jockey's she'd grown up with and yet the same enough to work. With that behind him, the case against Toretto and his crew mostly made, all the animosity toward Vince has fallen away. It was as much a part of the cover as anything else. Mostly everything else.

The truth at the end of it all, they were men in thrall with the same man. The hold remains although real life has done its best to trample it. That's mostly all of what he feels now when he looks at Vince. They've been through something, experienced something that only a handful of other people have. Something that neither of them is likely to encounter again, living under the dominion of Dominic Toretto. In real life they are kindred spirits. 

When he saw the paperwork confirming Vince had accepted an immunity deal there wasn't any disappointment or anger on his part. O'Conner had no leg to stand on. His promotion and assignment as a permanent liaison to the Bureau undercut any outrage he might have wanted to feel on Toretto's behalf. At least Vince had a good reason, probably the best reason. Family. A reason that Dominic Toretto would understand. From the jump, Brian's eye was mainly on career advancement. He had that now, but it hadn't come with the satisfaction of a job well done and a pay bump, it had come with an emptiness and tangible sense of loss. 

 

They released Vince to a safehouse after his hospitalization and wouldn't let O'Conner anywhere near it. His official role in the investigation no longer warranted further contact with Vince. O'Conner had taken the refusal of access as merely a challenge and not an actual answer. It had only taken him a couple of days to get the information, then he'd worked a food offensive on the Agents tasked with keeping Vince under wraps. He started with Fatburger and Tommy's. 

Vince had eyed his Tommy's bag for ten silent, hostile minutes before digging in. They hadn't said anything to each other that first time. The Agents ate in another part of the house and left them alone to the silence. The second time they sit in a slightly less hostile silence over Pink's and O'Conner tries not to stare at the scar that runs up the other man's arm. Vince catches him and starts talking about the surgery to save his arm and the weakness he'll probably have in the arm for the rest of his life. The third time O'Conner brings tacos from El Gato and whatever they're doing hasn't engendered trust exactly, but at least an uneasy truce. And understanding that the game is going on without either of them. 

 

The fourth time Vince pats his stomach and says, “Hey buster 'bout time you got here with lunch.” They end up in the kitchen in the surveillance camera blindspot, side by side backs against the sink. O'Conner's tried a couple of times, but he legit can't remember what they had for lunch that day. He does remember dessert.

The former undercover thinks the move, when it happens, is mutual, both of them going for it at the same time. Vince's hand on him feels good, practiced. Another thing that never came up in his jacket. He does okay because Vince doesn't try to kill him. Instead after, he gives O'Conner an appraising look and wipes his hand off on his crisp white dress shirt. 

For a flicker of moment he wonders what Mia would think if she could see them. He's not even sure what he thinks exactly, except what he thought before. Vince is the only other person on the planet who probably knows how shitty he feels though they don't talk about anything. Him.  
The handjobs become a regular thing like the food. None of the Agents rat O'Conner out about the food, even though they rotate Agents every couple of weeks. If any of them have caught on to the fact that he and Vince are doing more than breaking bread no one ever says anything. 

When word comes down that all the alphabet agencies that wanted to, have gotten their pound of flesh and it's been determined Toretto is either not a threat or they need the safehouse for someone higher profile, Vince gets his walking papers. It seems like the most natural thing in the world for Brian to offer him the spare bedroom in his Santa Clarita house.

Four weeks into sharing living quarters Vince's number pops up on his caller id. The terse, “I need you to come get me,” jolts O'Conner sending an unexpected series of emotions flashing through him. Not the least of which feels a little like panic. It isn't helped when Vince adds, “I'm at Santa Clarita Medical.” Then the line goes dead. 

 

After the emergency room reception directs him, O'Conner takes a moment to brace himself against the nearest wall. He's got an adrenaline buzz going, his heart is beating faster than it should be. He refuses to call it panic, but he he is in a heightened state of something. 

He sees Vince first. His de facto roommate is sitting on the edge of a hospital gurney, looking the same as he did when he left for work, save for a cast on his good arm. It's like that moment when Toretto climbed out of the wrecked Charger, definitely not dead, nearly completely unharmed. The relief that washes through him is almost as stumbling as the not panic. With no hitch in his stride, O'Conner walks right up to the gurney close enough to slide his fingers around the nape of Vince's neck and up into his hair. "Hey, thanks for calling me."

 

Vince blinks slow, huffs with annoyance, “I needed someone to pick me up from the hospital, I called my old man. The fuck's the big deal O'Conner?" 

 

Their laundry is co-mingled. On more occasions than he likes to think about he's grabbed Vince's briefs when he was in a hurry and late for work. So yeah, it's more than roommates with benefits, but they've never actually had a conversation. Or maybe they have, but it was all non-verbal the way Vince tends to be on his best days. Except when he's naked. 

He has a lot to say when they're skin to skin. It had come as a huge surprise. When they finally got down to it, he expected a kind of wham bam thank you sir, but it hadn't been like that. Wasn't like that. And maybe that's where Brian made his mistake. He'd been thinking of Vince as two different people. He's a man of few words, but his actions have been speaking pretty loud. Maybe there's a small part of him that is waiting for another kind of shoe to drop, that kind of expects, in spite of what's gone down between them in that last few months, Vince to murder him in his sleep with a tire iron. 

“No deal baby.” 

Brian only uses that endearment when they're naked, and he's moaning, but he needs to let Vince know that he understands. He gets it. This is the tire iron. 

“Never done it in a hospital before.” Thick fingers jam through his belt loops, draw him that much closer to his lover's body.

“And you won't be doing it now either.” He gets it, but he won't be doing Vince in the emergency room.

“Tight ass.” 

“That's Agent Tight-Ass to you. Let's get the fuck out of here.”

The drive back to the house is quick and quiet. The playfulness in Vince's demeanor from the emergency room has disappeared. It's replaced by a pensiveness from both of them.

“I gotta call Rosa and cancel this weekend,” Vince says when Brian stops the car in their driveway.

“Your old man can pick you up from the hospital, but can't drive you down to San Diego to see your kid. I have stuff I can bring down with me to work on.” 

Vince cocks an eyebrow and just stares at him over the hood of the car. Brian answers with his own raised eyebrow. “You get a room right? I'll hang in the room while you do father, son time. No reason for you to cancel the visit V.”

 

“Why would you stay in the room?” 

“I -.” 

Brian opens his mouth to answer, but realizes that he's not sure what Vince is asking. Two guys staying together in a room is no big deal and Vince wanted to make out in the emergency room so his question can't have anything to do with...Brian isn't quite sure what it has to do with.

“Where else would I stay? I'm not gonna drive down there and come right back. ” 

Vince scowls back at Brian like he's the stupidest person on the planet. 

“I can't exactly shoot hoops or go to the batting cage like this. If I'm going down I need an actual wingman. The kid and I don't sit around shooting the shit all weekend.”

“He's seven.”

“Exactly, mostly I just try to tire him out to give his mom a break.” O'Conner can't help but grin. They don't really talk about it, but he's seen pictures of Vince's son, a brown version of Vince with a headful of black curly hair and an infectious smile. “So you're gonna need some help with that.”

“Yeah.”

“What about -, ” O'Conner points between the two of them and raises an eyebrow. 

“I think they read a book about this or some shit when they start school.”

“What's it called, My Daddy's Old Man?”

Vince grins at him wide and fond and Brian can't help widening his in return, can't help the warmth that envelopes him. 

“First time I went down Rosa said, 'you musta put it on that cop pretty good to get him to come down and plead for you'.”

That revelation nearly wipes the smile of O'Conner's face. He studies the other man's expression to gauge which way the rest of the conversation is gonna go. The cast might make it harder for Vince to drive, but it is nothing but an asset in a fight. O'Conner knows it was right to do what he did. It was one thing to use the kid as leverage to get Vince to testify, but Brian thought at the very least someone ought to make an effort to pave a real path for Vince to actually be a part of his kid's life. To have a family. He knows it first hand from his own life, his best friend Rome's life and more recently Toretto's, having their father's around would have made a world of difference. 

He'd gotten the address from the case file and driven down shortly after the Feds convinced the ex-racer to become a witness in exchange for immunity from prosecution. 

O'Conner had done it on his own initiative and had never mentioned it to anyone. He could admit that part of it was his own personal curiosity. He'd had no reason to think that he'd made any other impression beyond Fed. 

“And what did you say?”

Vince gives a one shoulder shrug. 

“She's the one that told me Dom would either break my heart or get me killed.” 

It's the first time the name has been said out loud by either of them in the presence of the other. In the confines of the house they don't even allude to what went down with the team, although in some ways it underpins everything they do together. Brian watches Vince's expression smooth out, waits to see if there's more to this opening. Maybe the time has finally come for them to talk about those few months that got them here, the man that got them here.

“I gave him my keys.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Ain't that some shit.” 

Vince smiles at him, but doesn't say anything else. Maybe that really is all there is to say about Dom now. 

“So I'm driving us to San Diego Saturday and you, me and the rugrat will be tearing up the town.”

“Something like that, buster.” Vince lopes off towards the house.

*******

 

“Food'll be here in about twenty minutes.”

There's no immediate response, there's always a response. Food is what smoothed the way between them afterall. Brian steps out of the kitchen to find Vince dozing on the couch. With workboots cast aside, his feet propped up on the coffee table and remote in hand, the air in the living room feels different. It's not like it hasn't become a common scenario since Vince moved into his house, but now O'Conner can't feel any of his wariness. 

 

Lowering himself to the couch, careful not to jostle him, Brian allows himself to do one of the things he's always been tempted to do, but held in check because they have either consciously or unconsciously delineated certain behaviors for in the dark only. The first night an unfamiliar noise in his house woke him up. Then he remembered that he had a guest, roommate. They hadn't really discussed how long Vince would stay. The born again owner of a local garage, who hired ex-cons, asked his employees for at least a six month commitment. At Brian's request, he'd extended an offer to Vince.

 

Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of his room, Brian found Vince, naked as the day he was born, erect and looming in the doorway of the bedroom. He hadn't figured Vince for sleepwalking, but then while O'Conner was under Vince's m.o. was get drunk, pass out, get drunk disappear with the girl he'd just picked up. So he'd said nothing. Waited for Vince to finish whatever move he was making. The move was a confident stride to the edge of the bed with cock in hand. Mesmerized by Vince's hand, Brian hadn't been able to stop himself from leaning to meet him. As he knelt on the bed, Brian ran his tongue along the underside of Vince's shaft, the contours of his balls. 

 

Lining up face to cock their mouths did what their hands were already well practiced. Frantic rutting, load moaning of names and obscenities, pure release that they'd only been able to experience a shadow of with Federal agents a room away, marked the rest of that night. By morning Vince had disappeared to his room. That pattern persisted for a week before Brian woke up one morning to find himself trapped under Vince's good arm while the man slept soundly beside him. And though from that morning on they slept in Brian's bed while Vince's became the one stacked with laundry and the occasional power tool, they never touched each other in the day, outside of the room.

O'Conner thinks he was given permission at the hospital and in the driveway to alter that dynamic. Permission he's probably had for longer than he's realized. His fingers glide easily into the other man's hair and he tugs just a little. A sleepy mumbled _mmm_ greets the action as the pliant body tilts towards him. His fingers tighten for just a moment. It was something of a surprise to discover that his lover enjoyed having the curly strands of his hair looped around his fingers and pulled. Hard. Especially on the cusp of release. That's not what O'Conner has in store for his 'old man' right now. The grin that flickers across his face as the endearment flits through his mind can't be helped.

**Author's Note:**

> My OTP is Dom/Brian, but I wanted to try something different. On November 30, 2013 I had about 1800 words of this fic done. Then lost all enthusiasm for it.
> 
> With Furious 7 here it gave me the incentive to go ahead and finish. So fic posted now, film this afternoon. This is my favorite franchise of all time. I'm prepared to do a lot of ugly crying.


End file.
